Better Than Before
by blueyellowgreen
Summary: Stories based on each memory mentioned in "Better Than Before".
1. They must be tacky trinkets

_So let's start with something small - something personal and pretty. I bet you'll know these shiny things._

_They must be tacky trinkets, from I guess, Atlantic City?_

_Actually, Di, they're our wedding rings._

_

* * *

_

"Diana!" Dan's voice carried all the way to the sidewalk, where she was waiting for him so that they could go out to dinner, just the two of them for once.

He was, she kept reminding herself, her fiancée_. _Of sorts. He had asked her to marry him after she had told him about the baby, but it hadn't quite sunk in yet, and she certainly hadn't told her parents. How could she when it hardly made sense even when she herself thought about it?

So maybe it wasn't the life she had imagined. Maybe, she thought, it wasn't even the life she wanted, but it wasn't a bad one to have. Dan was kind, that was certain. He had his moments where he was even a little carefree. There were moments where he made her heart melt, and he had a comforting sort of strength about him. She put a hand against her stomach, feeling the warmth of it through her cotton blouse, dwelling on the most important part - that they had this life that they were going to bring into the world.

Dan reached her breathlessly with a goofy grin on his face and an equally uncharacteristically chirpy tone to his voice. "I have a surprise for you!"

"Okay," Diana said cautiously. "What is it?"

"Close your eyes."

She did as he asked, feeling the cool breeze on her skin. Wouldn't it be wonderful to freeze time right then and there - to be able to feel that moment for as long as she wanted? Yes, she thought to herself, bottle up the good moments so that they could take the place of the bad. But hopefully she wouldn't need that kind of reassurance; all her days from here on out would be good ones.

"Okay, open them."

A giddy Dan held out a small black velvet box. A ring box, she realized after a beat. And there, in the box, was the ugliest ring she'd ever seen. It was too large, too flashy, just utterly _tacky_; but Dan's expectant stare kicked her horrified gaze away from the box and into action.

"Oh, Dan, I love it!" Diana gushed falsely, and smiled weakly when she was rewarded with his beaming grin and the ring being slipped onto her finger. "It's beautiful."

"Then it's just right for you, Di," he said, and her smile turned into a real one. Who cared if the ring wasn't perfect? He had bought it so that she would be happy with their engagement, that was what mattered. Diana _Goodman_ was going to be content.

"Can we go to that little Italian restaurant you like?" She piped up, feeling like they should at least do something that Dan would want to do. He shifted on his feet, looking crestfallen before he spoke.

"I was thinking something a little closer, maybe."

Panic seized her. Had she said the wrong thing already, so soon after the perfect moment? Had she ruined it completely? "Oh. I mean, if you don't _want_ to - I just thought because it's where you wanted to eat the other day and we never got a chance to - it was a stupid suggestion."

"No, no." He looked suddenly worried, and took her hand as they continued walking. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Diana's heart seemed to return to a normal pace, as it so often did when she was with Dan. That was one of the reasons that she could be sure that she loved him - his intuitive ability to make her feel safe. Safety was something she had little experience with until she met him, and it was a feeling she intended to savor for the rest of her life.

"I - uh," he cleared his throat. "I sold my car."

"You _what_?"

"I wanted to get that for you," he said defensively. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"But you _sold your car_?"

"Yeah, I did."

"You sold your car," she murmured in awe, and suddenly burst out into loud peals of laughter. After a moment, Dan cracked a smile and then started to chuckle himself, and soon they had to stop and sit on a bench until their inexplicable bout of amusement subsided.

"You know," Dan said, keeping an arm around her shoulders. "If you're happy, then it was worth it."

"Then..." she paused, unsure. She didn't truly know the answer, but what was this - laughing with a man who made her feel more like herself than anyone had in her life - if not happiness? "Yes. It was worth it."


	2. Here's the headline in the paper

I'm skipping around, sorry! I just couldn't get the next line of the song's story to sound right for whatever reason. So here's this instead. Reviews would be very lovely :)

* * *

_Here's the headline in the paper, when you freaked out at the market..._

Natalie was up, as usual, within her alarm's first three rings. She crossed the room and opened up her blinds, taking in the usual sights - the clean, paved driveway that sloped just slightly to the right, leaving the cars looking a little crooked even if they were parked straight; their mailbox, black and unremarkable; the house across the street, where her neighbor and his wife were heading to work in their indistinguishable silver sports cars.

They were talking as they walked down the driveway, and she suddenly pointed to the Goodman house. Natalie inexplicably ducked, her heart pounding in her ears even though she knew they probably couldn't see her. She could guess without hesitation why they were pointing and what they were talking about. But how had they heard so quickly?

She padded downstairs to the kitchen, hoping that her parents weren't up yet. She cherished those mornings when she could just get ready for school in silence. If she timed everything correctly, she could shower while her parents were eating breakfast, and take something with her when she left. If she timed everything _perfectly_, then she wouldn't have to see either of them at all. She could just leave through the back door as soon as they left the kitchen.

That was the goal each morning.

This morning, however, when she got to the kitchen, it was strangely silent. Her father stood at the counter, the newspaper in his hand, an unreadable expression on his face. He barely glanced up when she came in.

"Uh, dad?"

"Yeah, sweetheart." He lowered the paper about an inch.

"What are you looking at like that?"

"Oh, just..." he trailed off in the way he had when he was avoiding a subject, and suddenly Natalie felt a cold block in her stomach. _Please_ _tell me this isn't what I think it is_, she thought, _please tell me this isn't why they knew_.

"What's it about?" She tried to sound casual, but failed as her voice wavered, though whether it was due to certainty or uncertainty, she'd never be able to say for sure.

He sighed. In that sigh, she had her answer.

Her voice came out shriller than she had intended. "Let me see."

"I don't think that's a good -"

Ignoring him, she took it from his hands, running her eyes over the headline even as a flush rose to her cheeks: "LOCAL WOMAN CAUSES DAMAGE TO 4TH AVENUE CONVENIENCE STORE".

Natalie put it on the table, face down, and went about gathering her things for school without giving him the benefit of a reaction. Why did things always have to go like this? Two good days followed by an awful one that caused a wealth of damage in the fabric of their lives. And there that day was, in black and white, literally.

She looked out the window to try to collect her thoughts, and when she turned back, her father was cutting the paper carefully.

"What are you doing?" She asked dangerously.

"It's not that bad, if you think about it," Dan said cheerfully. "I mean, sure, it's not the best thing. But it's not the worst thing. And look - the picture's kind of funny, too. Let's save it."

She noticed a smile on his lips, like he was cutting out the article when Natalie had broken a school record on the swim team. Except, she thought bitterly, he _hadn't_ cut out that article. Natalie herself had fished it out of the recycling bin and saved the snippet in a drawer in her bedroom.

With careful, focused intensity she flipped him off, half because she was utterly disgusted with him and half because she desperately wanted to see his reaction to such deliberate insolence. Any reaction, really, that wasn't so fucking composed.

"Natalie," he said, a warning, nothing more. "We can talk about this."

"Oh, now you want to talk?" She asked bitterly.

"When did you get like this?" Dan asked tiredly, and Natalie felt numb, detached from her body, which she was sure would have been seething with rage if only she could feel it.

"Somewhere between when you stopped noticing me and when you started again," she said, feeling her eyes prickle with tears and hating herself for it. "So anywhere between the age of four and, say, two minutes ago."

"Maybe I haven't been the best parent I could be lately -"

"Understatement of the century."

"- but that doesn't give you the right to act like this."

"You're right, dad," Natalie said sarcastically. She detested this feeling - anger and pity and sadness and guilt all rolled up into one awful weight that made her feel like vomiting. "I should act perfect. Let's ask Gabriel about being perfect, since everyone around here seems to think he is."

"_Don't_." The sudden coldness in his voice, so different from the normal tired acceptance, made Natalie realize that she had taken things a step too far. But she wasn't sorry, as much as she wanted to be. She simply had no remorse left in her aching body and instead stared at her father with incensed eyes. Dan slammed a hand onto the table, making her jump. "God_dammit_, Natalie, we're all doing the best we can!"

"Then I'd hate to see things if you weren't trying." Natalie spat out, and with what little dignity she had left, strode out of the room.

* * *

Natalie arrived at school fifteen minutes into third period, without a call from her father explaining why she was late - _shocker_ - and therefore without a late pass.

She entered as discreetly as possible and slid into her seat, in between a girl with some kind of intricate top on who sniffed as if she was inconvenienced by Natalie's arrival, and a guy who smelled like weed and giggled quietly to himself when she sat down.

"What?" She asked under her breath, in no mood to let things slide but not really expecting an answer. She turned halfway in her seat to face him when he chuckled again.

"You're _always_ on time," he said; his shoulders shook with silent laughter. He leaned forward and looked at her with wide eyes, as if he was surprised to see her meeting his gaze. "Always." He repeated, as if for emphasis.

Okay. Just her luck to be seated between an ice queen and yet another lunatic. She turned back around, and that was when she noticed the whispers. They weren't loud, and she only caught bits and pieces, but what she heard made her ears burn as she fought the urge to turn around and see who was speaking the words.

Not that she could blame them, not really. Who _wouldn't_ find it something to talk about? They didn't know about the other times, the times when her mother's antics were less cheerfully destructive and more miserably lifeless. They didn't know about the times when she would forget to make dinner for a week, the times when she would throw things out of frustration, when she would spend all day cleaning and all night taking everything back out to "give the place character", or the times when she would simply refuse to get out of bed. Those were the worst, Natalie thought, those days when her mother wouldn't even open the blinds. Those days frightened Natalie to her core. But these whispering students didn't know, and she insisted to herself that they never would.

"Didn't she jump in the pool at that swim meet, too?"

So they were definitely talking about _it_. Natalie closed her eyes and waited for class to be over, so that she could be done with this godforsaken day, for once and for all. But she wasn't naive anymore. There was a time when she thought that if she could only get through the day - if she could only weather one last storm - the next day would be better. But now she knew that even if she managed to get through this day, the relative peace that followed was only the calm before another storm, more terrible than the last.

* * *

As soon as the bell rang, she darted around vague figures in the hallway, heading to her safe place, her refuge. The music room smelled like paper and wood, a thrilling combination that spoke to Natalie of order and normalcy, of empty air waiting to be filled with beautiful perfect notes that she would put in it.

She opened the door, closing it behind her with a click that muted most of the noise from the hallway. Before school, during her study hall, and after school most days, the music room was all hers. Mr. Dudek, the music teacher, had arranged it for her. She knew that there were other students who used it, and a few periods of the day there were some music classes, but by the time she got to it, it was always empty. Mercifully empty.

She sat down at the piano, reveling in its cool touch. Before she played, however, she looked at Mr. Dudek's desk. There was a newspaper on his desk. A newspaper opened to _that_ page. Natalie took one more shaky breath, relished one more rush of anger, closed her eyes one more time, and she played. And everything else went away.


End file.
